The Terror Inside Trump's White House

What kind of national security policy will the Trump administration pursue globally? On this issue, as on so many others, the incoming president has offered enough contradictory clues, tweets, and comments that the only definitive answer right now is: Who knows?

(February 5, 2017) -- Let's face it: since 9/11 everything in our American world has been wildly out of proportion. Understandably enough, at the time that attack was experienced as something other than it was. In the heat of the moment, it would be compared to city-destroying or world-ending Hollywood disaster films ("It was like one of them Godzilla movies"), instantly dubbed "the Pearl Harbor of the twenty-first century," or simply "A New Day of Infamy," and experienced by many as nothing short of an apocalyptic event inflicted on this country, the equivalent of a nuclear attack -- as NBC's Tom Brokaw said that day, "like a nuclear winter in lower Manhattan," or as the Topeka Capital-Journal headlined it in a reference to a 1983 TV movie about nuclear Armageddon, "The Day After."

It was, of course, none of this. No imposing imperial challenger had struck the United States without warning, as Japan did on December 7, 1941, in what was essentially a declaration of war. It was anything but the nuclear strike for which the country had been mentally preparing since August 6, 1945 -- as, in the years after World War II, American newspapers regularly drew futuristic concentric circles of destruction around American cities and magazines offered visions of our country as a vaporized wasteland.

And yet the remains of the World Trade Center were regularly referred to as "Ground Zero," a term previously reserved for the spot where an atomic explosion had occurred. The 9/11 attacks were, in fact, mounted by the most modest of groups at an estimated cost of only $400,000 to $500,000 and committed by 19 hijackers using our own "weapons" (commercial airliners) against us.

However, the response from a Bush administration eager to strike in the Greater Middle East, especially against Iraq's Saddam Hussein, was to act as if the country had indeed been hit by nuclear weapons and as if we were now at war with a new Nazi Germany or Soviet Union. In the process, Bush officials took that first natural urge to go apocalyptic, to see our country as endangered at an existential level, and ran with it.

As a result, from September 12, 2001, on, the confusion, the inability to see things as they actually were, would never end. The Bush administration, of course, promptly launched its own "global war on terror." (GWOT was the acronym.) Its officials then made that "global" quite real by insisting that they were planning to fight terrorism in a mind-boggling 60 or more countries around the planet.

Fifteen disastrous years later, having engaged in wars, occupations, or conflicts in at least seven countries in the Greater Middle East, having left failed or failing states littered in our path and spurred the spread of terror groups throughout that region and beyond, we now find ourselves in the age of Trump, and if it isn't obvious to you that everything remains dangerously out of whack, it should be.

Consider the set of former military men and associated figures the new president has appointed to run the national security state.

As TomDispatch regular and professor of religious studies Ira Chernus points out today, they uniformly believe -- shades of GWOT -- that our country is in a literal "world war" at this very second, and they seem to believe as well that its fate and the planet's are at stake, even if none of them can quite decide whom it is we're actually fighting.

This struggle against, well, whomever, is so apocalyptic that, in their opinion, our very "Judeo-Christian" civilization is at stake. (Hence the recent Muslim ban, even if not quite called that.) On all of this, Chernus offers their own grim, whacked-out words as proof.

Who could deny that, by now, many Americans have lost the ability to see the world as it is, put much of anything in perspective, or sort out genuine threats from fantasy constructs? As a result, we're led by delusional officials overseen, as if in some terrible Hollywood flick about the declining Roman Empire, by a mad, driven leader (who may be quite capable, in a matter of months, of turning the whole world against us).

If you don't believe me, just plunge into Chernus today and into a fantasy war and an apocalyptic fate that supposedly awaits us if we don't fight to the death against . . . well . . .

What kind of national security policy will the Trump administration pursue globally? On this issue, as on so many others, the incoming president has offered enough contradictory clues, tweets, and comments that the only definitive answer right now is: Who knows?

During his presidential campaign he more or less promised a non-interventionist foreign policy, even as he offered hints that his might be anything but. There was, of course, ISIS to destroy and he swore he would "bomb the shit out of them." He would, he suggested, even consider using nuclear weapons in the Middle East. And as Dr. Seuss might have said, that was not all, oh no, that was not all.

He has often warned of the dangers of a vague but fearsome "radical Islam" and insisted that "terrorists and their regional and worldwide networks must be eradicated from the face of the Earth, a mission we will carry out." (And he's already ordered his first special ops raid in Yemen, resulting in one dead American and evidently many dead civilians.)

And when it comes to enemies to smite, he's hardly willing to stop there, not when, as he told CNN, "I think Islam hates us." He then refused to confine that hatred to "radical Islam," given that, on the subject of the adherents of that religion, "it's very hard to define, it's very hard to separate. Because you don't know who's who."

And when it comes to enemies, why stop with Islam? Though President Trump has garnered endless headlines for touting a possible rapprochement with Vladimir Putin's Russia, he also suggested during the election campaign that he would be tougher on the Russian president than Hillary Clinton, might have "a horrible relationship" with him, and might even consider using nukes in Europe, presumably against the Russians. His apparent eagerness to ramp up the American nuclear arsenal in a major way certainly presents another kind of challenge to Russia.

And then, of course, there's China. After all, in addition to his own belligerent comments on that country, his prospective secretary of state, Rex Tillerson, and his press secretary, Sean Spicer, have both recently suggested that the US should prevent China from accessing artificial islands that country has created and fortified in the South China Sea -- which would be an obvious American act of war.

In sum, don't take the promise of non-intervention too seriously from a man intent, above all else, on pouring money into the further "rebuilding" of a "depleted" US military. Just who might be the focus of future Trumpian interventions is, at best, foggy, since his vision of The Enemy -- ISIS aside -- remains an ever-moving target.

Suppose, though, we judge the new president not by his own statements alone, but by the company he keeps -- in this case, those he chooses to advise him on national security. Do that and a strange picture emerges.

On one thing all of Trump's major national security appointees seem crystal clear. We are, each one of them insists, in nothing less than a world war in which non-intervention simply isn't an option. And in that they are hardly kowtowing to the president. Each of them took such a position before anyone knew that there would be a Donald Trump administration.

There's only one small catch: none of them can quite agree on just whom we're fighting in this twenty-first-century global war of ours. So let's take a look at this crew, one by one, and see what their records might tell us about intervention, Trump-style.

Michael Flynn's Field of Fright
The most influential military voice should be that of retired Lieutenant General and National Security Adviser Michael Flynn (though his position is already evidently weakening). He will lead the National Security Council (NSC), which historian David Rothkopf calls the "brain" and "nerve center" of the White House.

Flynn laid out his views in detail in the 2014 book he co-authored with neocon Michael Ledeen, The Field of Fight: How We Can Win the Global War Against Radical Islam and Its Allies (a volume that Trump, notorious for not reading books, "highly recommended"). To call Flynn's views frightening would be an understatement.

America, Flynn flatly asserts, is "in a world war" and it could well be a "hundred-year war." Worse yet, "if we lose this war, [we would live] in a totalitarian state . . . a Russian KGB or Nazi SS-like state." So "we will do whatever it takes to win . . . If you are victorious, the people will judge whatever means you used to have been appropriate."

But whom exactly must we defeat? It turns out, according to him, that we face an extraordinary network of enemies "that extends from North Korea and China to Russia, Iran, Syria, Cuba, Bolivia, Venezuela, and Nicaragua." And that's not all, not by a long shot.

There's "also al-Qaeda, Hezbollah, ISIS, and countless other terrorist groups." And don't forget "the merging of narcotics traffickers, organized criminals, and terrorists." (Flynn has claimed that "Mexican drug cartels" actually post signs at the US-Mexican border -- in Arabic, no less -- marking "lanes of entry" for Islamic terrorists.)

Now, that's quite a list! Still, "radical Islam" seems to be America's number one enemy on most pages of the book and Flynn puts the spotlight of fear squarely on one nation-state: "Iran is the linchpin of the alliance, its centerpiece."

How Shi'ite Iran can be the "linchpin" in what turns out to be a worldwide insurgency of the Sunni Islamic State (aka ISIS) is something of a mystery. Perhaps it's not any single version of Islam that threatens us, but the religion in all its many forms, or so Flynn seems to have decided after he published his book.

In this spirit, in February 2016 he infamously tweeted "Fear of Islam is RATIONAL" as an endorsement of a video that indicted and vilified that religion of 1.6 billion people. And to this day he evidently remains unsure whether "radical Islam" -- or maybe even Islam as a whole -- is a religion or a political ideology that we must fight to the death.

In our present world, all of this highlights another glaring contradiction: Why would Vladimir Putin's Russia, for so long fiercely resisting Muslim insurgencies within its own borders and now fighting in Syria, ally with global radical Islam?

In his book, Flynn offers this facile (and farfetched) explanation meant to clarify everything that otherwise makes no sense whatsoever: all the forces arrayed against us around the world are "united in their hatred of the democratic West and their conviction that dictatorship is superior."

Anti-democratic ideology, if you'll excuse the choice of words, trumps all. Our enemies are waging war "against the entire Western enterprise." In response, in his book Flynn ups the ante on the religious nature of our global war, calling on all Americans to "accept what we were founded upon, a Judeo-Christian ideology built on a moral set of rules and ties . . . The West, and especially America, is far more civilized, far more ethical and moral, than the system our main enemies want to impose on us."

As it happens, though, Flynn seems to have come to a somewhat different conclusion since his book was published. "We can't do what we want to do unless we work with Russia, period," he's told the New York Times. "What we both have is a common enemy . . . radical Islam."

The Russians, it turns out, may be part of that Christian . . . well, why not use the word . . . crusade against Islam. And among other things, Russia might even be able to help "get Iran to back out of the proxy wars they are involved in." (One of which, however, is against ISIS, a reality Flynn simply ducks.)

Of course, Russia has not significantly changed its policies in this period. It's Flynn, at a moment when geopolitical strategy trumps (that word again!) ideology, who has apparently changed his tune on just who our enemy is.

"I would want this enemy to be clearly defined by this president," Flynn said when talking about President Obama. Now that Donald Trump is president, Flynn's the one who has to do the defining, and what he's got on his hands is a long list of enemies, some of whom are visibly at each other's throats, a list evidently open to radical revision at any moment.

All we can say for sure is that Michael Flynn doesn't like Islam and wants us to be afraid, very afraid, as we wage that "world war" of his. When he chose a title for his book he seems to have forgotten one letter. It should have been The Field of Fright. And his present job title deserves a slight alteration as well: national insecurity adviser.

An Uncertain (In)Security Team
On the national insecurity team Flynn heads, everyone seems to share a single conviction: that we are indeed already in a global war, which we just might lose. But each of them has his or her own favorites among Flynn's vast array of proffered enemies.

Take his top assistant at the NSC, K.T. McFarland. For her, the enemy is neither a nation nor a political unit, but a vaguely defined "apocalyptic death cult . . . the most virulent and lethal in history" called "radical Islam." She adds, "If we do not destroy the scourge of radical Islam, it will ultimately destroy Western civilization . . . and the values we hold dear." For her, it's an old story: civilization against the savages.

There's no way to know whether McFarland will have real influence on decision-making in the Oval Office, but her view of the enemy has been voiced in much the same language by someone who already does have such influence, white nationalist Steve Bannon, whom the president has just given a seat on the National Security Council. (He reportedly even had a major hand in writing the new president's Inaugural Address.)

Trump's senior counselor and key adviser on long-term foreign policy strategy offered rare insight into his national insecurity views in a talk he gave at, of all places, the Vatican.

We're in "a war that's already global," Bannon declared, "an outright war against jihadist Islamic fascism." However, we also face an equally dangerous threat: "an immense secularization of the West," which "converges" with "radical Islam" in a way he didn't bother to explain.

He did, however, make it very clear that the fight against the "new barbarity" of "radical Islam" is a "crisis of our faith," a struggle to save the very ideals of "the Judeo-Christian West . . . a church and a civilization that really is the flower of mankind."

New CIA Director Mike Pompeo seems to agree wholeheartedly with Bannon that we're in a global religious war, "the kind of struggle this country has not faced since its great wars." Part of the key to survival, as he sees it, is for "more politicians of faith to infuse the government with their beliefs and get the nation back on track, instead of bowing to secularism."

In this battle of churches and mosques, he also claims that the line has been drawn between "those who accept modernity and those who are barbarians," by which he means "the Islamic east." In such a grandiose tangle, who exactly is who among our enemies remains up for grabs. All Pompeo seems to knows for sure is that "evil is all around us."

Retired General and Secretary of Defense James Mattis admits forthrightly just how confusing this all is, but he, too, insists that we have to "take a firm, strategic stance in defense of our values." And who exactly is threatening those values? "Political Islam?" he asked an audience rhetorically.

On that subject, he answered himself this way: "We need to have the discussion." After all, he went on, "If we won't even ask the question, how do we even recognize which is our side in a fight?"

Several years ago, however, when Barack Obama asked him to spell out his top priorities as CENTCOM commander in the Greater Middle East, Mattis was crystal clear. He bluntly replied that he had three priorities: "Number one: Iran. Number two: Iran. Number three: Iran." Moreover, in his confirmation hearings, he suddenly proclaimed Russia a "principal threat . . . an adversary in key areas."

Still another view comes from retired General and Secretary of Homeland Security James Kelly. He, too, is sure that "our country today is in a life-and-death struggle against an evil enemy" that exists "around the globe." But for him that evil enemy is, above all, the drug cartels and the undocumented immigrants crossing the US-Mexican border. They pose the true "existential" threat to the United States.

Everyone on Trump's national insecurity team seems to agree on one thing: the United States is in a global war to the death, which we could lose, bringing some quite literal version of apocalyptic ruin down on our nation. Yet there is no consensus on whom or what exactly we are fighting.

Flynn, presumably the key voice on the national insecurity team, offers a vast and shifting array of enemies milling around pugnaciously on Trumpworld's field of fright. The others each highlight and emphasize one or more groups, movements, or nations in that utterly confused crew of potential adversaries.

We Need an Enemy, Any Enemy
This could, of course, lead to bruising disagreements and a struggle for control over the president's foreign and military policies.

It's more likely, though, that Trump and his team don't see these differences as crucial, as long as they all agree that the threat of destruction really is at our doorstep, whoever the designated deliverer of our apocalyptic fate may be. Starting out with such a terrifying assumption about how our present world works as their unquestioned premise, they then can play fill-in-the-blank, naming a new enemy as often as they wish.

For the last near-century, after all, Americans have been filling in that blank fairly regularly, starting with the Nazis and fascists of World War II, then the Soviet Union and other members of the "communist bloc" (until, like China and Yugoslavia, they weren't), then Vietnamese, Cubans, Grenadians, Panamanians, so-called narco-terrorists, al-Qaeda (of course!), and more recently ISIS, among others.

Trump reminds us of this history when he says things like: "In the twentieth century, the United States defeated Fascism, Nazism, and Communism. We will defeat Radical Islamic Terrorism, just as we have defeated every threat we have faced in every age before."

The field of fright that Trump and his team are bringing to the White House is, by now, an extreme version of a familiar feature of American life. The specter of apocalypse (in the modern American meaning of the word), the idea that we face some enemy dedicated above all else to destroying us utterly and totally, is buried so deep in our political discourse that we rarely take the time to think about it.

One question: Why is such an apocalyptic approach -- even when, as at present, so ludicrously confused and unsupported by basic facts, not to say confusing to its own proponents -- convincing for so many Americans?

One answer seems clear enough: it's hard to rally the public behind interventions and wars explicitly aimed at expanding American power and control (which is why the top officials of the Bush administration worked so hard to locate fantasy weapons of mass destruction in Saddam Hussein's Iraq and bogusly link him to the 9/11 attacks before invading his country in 2003).

Americans have assured pollsters for years that they don't want to be the cops of the world. So, as successful leaders since President Franklin Roosevelt have recognized, any wars or steps toward war must be clothed in the word defense, and if you can add a sense of apocalyptic menace to the package, all the better.

Defense is little short of a sacred term in the American lexicon (right down to the "Defense" Department, once upon a time known far more accurately as the War Department). It bestows an aura of moral justification on even the most violent and aggressive acts. As long as the public is convinced that we must defend ourselves at all costs against an enemy that threatens our very world, anything is possible.

Trump and his national insecurity team are blessed with an added benefit in this process: the coming of all-news, all-the-time media, which has a tendency to inflate even the relatively modest (if bloody) acts of "lone wolf" terrorists until they seem to engulf our lives, 24/7, threatening everything we hold dear.

Images of terror that might once have been glimpsed for a few minutes on the nightly news are now featured, as with the San Bernardino or the Pulse night club killings, for days, even weeks, at a time.

Certainly, when so many news consumers in the world's most powerful nation accept such fearsome imagery, and their own supposed vulnerability to it, as reality itself (as pollsters tell us so many Americans indeed do), they do so in part because it makes whatever violence our government inflicts on others seem "regrettable, but necessary" and therefore moral; it absolves us, that is, of responsibility.

In part, too, such collective apocalyptic anxiety gives Americans a perverse common bond in a world in which -- as the recent presidential campaign showed -- it's increasingly hard to find a common denominator that defines American identity for all of us. The closest we can come is a shared determination to defend our nation against those who would destroy it.

In 2017, if we didn't have such enemies, would we have any shared idea of what it means to be an American? Since we've been sharing that sense of identity for three-quarters of a century now, it's become, for most of us, a matter of unquestioned habit, offering the peculiar comfort that familiarity typically brings.

At this point, beyond upping the ante against ISIS, no one can predict just what force, set of groups, nation or nations, or even religion the Trump administration might choose as the next great "threat to national security."

However, as long as the government, the media, and so much of the public agree that staving off doom is America's preeminent mission, the administration will have something close to a blank check to do whatever it likes. When it comes to "defending" the nation, what other choice is there?

Ira Chernus, a TomDispatch regular, is professor emeritus of religious studies at the University of Colorado at Boulder and author of the online MythicAmerica: Essays. Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and Facebook.
Copyright 2017 Ira Chernus

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